The Vault of Guigokdo
"If it's the Falling Phoenix Gauntlet…"
Song Jain searched her own experience for the name.
"Isn't that the old name of the Bihwang-gwon-gap?"
"It is. Then you must know the story of the Bihwang-gwon-gap as well."
"Of course. I've heard it was an absolute treasure forged by a man who nursed a bitter grudge against the Hwangbo Clan for the sole purpose of destroying them. Fist masters call it the hand of a yaksha."
A century ago, a man who would barely have ranked among the bottom of the fifty greatest masters of the martial world had slaughtered half the Hwangbo Clan.
The Blood-Tempered One, Gwang Jain.
In the end he died together with the Hwangbo clan head in mutual destruction, yet many believed that if he had not exhausted himself first, the death toll would have been far higher. The weapon that brought the greatest crisis in the history of the Hwangbo Clan was none other than the Falling Phoenix Gauntlet — a pair of gauntlets forged with the single-minded resolve to erase the Hwangbo name from the earth.
After Gwang Jain's death, the Hwangbo Clan tried to destroy the Falling Phoenix Gauntlet, only to discover that wearing it doubled the power of any fist art. With their strength suddenly gutted by the battle against Gwang Jain, they finally decided that the clan head alone would keep it. Outwardly they claimed it was so they would never forget the old crisis and grow complacent; in truth they simply renamed the Falling Phoenix Gauntlet the Bihwang-gwon-gap. From then on it became a secret treasure usable only by the clan head, and so it had been passed down to this day.
"I have it."
Because the previous head of the Hwangbo Clan had died on Guigokdo.
"If I heard you correctly…"
"The head of the Hwangbo Clan died on Guigokdo as well."
Song Jain already knew Ja Gangcheon had come from Guigokdo. She had simply never seen the treasure vault. Having received the Chosan Medical Codex herself, there had been no need to hide talk of the island from her.
"I was sorting things to give you anyway, Aunt. Since the subject came up, shall we go together?"
"Is that place so easy to reach?"
"It's time we raised everyone's strength as far as it will go. Even so, I'm only showing it to the three of you here. Secrecy still matters."
Judging by the treasures that filled it, even three people felt like too many, but she did not press the point. Truthfully she was curious about Ja Gangcheon's vault. Any martial artist would have been. She simply had enough experience to keep that curiosity from her face.
Then a name landed that set her carefully restrained heart racing.
"Poison King Man Simak."
Song Jain's eyes lit up. He had been the only man whose poison arts could stand beside her own. Now that he was dead, she had no rival left. While she was saving her son she had cared nothing for such rivalries — but things were different now.
If I'm going to protect these foolish nephews of mine, I need to grow stronger too.
As if he had read her mind, Ja Gangcheon spoke.
"He left three medicine bottles. One poison, one antidote — and the last one even my parents couldn't identify."
"Most likely a core base. You concentrate the key ingredients that take forever to refine and store them ahead of time. Used as is, they do almost nothing, but with only a little further processing they can become either a lethal toxin or an antidote."
"I knew you'd understand, Aunt. Then you probably know about the last piece as well."
"There's more?"
For the first time in a long while Song Jain felt her heart beat with pure, bright excitement.
"On the bottles. Something was written on them. I couldn't decipher it, though."
"Ah!"
She already suspected that writing might be worth more than the medicines themselves.
"Shall we go now, then?"
"I'm trembling."
It was the first time she had felt this kind of thrill since the day her husband confessed to her.
They moved to Ja Gangcheon's room and at once entered the passage beneath the bed. Song Jain had shown no reaction even when night-luminescent pearls lit the dark, yet the moment she stepped into the vault she could not close her mouth for the shock.
"Ah…"
Could such a place exist anywhere in the world?
Treasure after treasure capable of whipping the martial world into a storm of blood filled the warehouse to the brim. There was no need to wonder whether any of it was fake.
This aura leaves no room for doubt.
From the instant she crossed the threshold, the tangled energies made it hard to breathe. It was a sensation only the strong felt clearly, and the stronger they were, the sharper it became. Song Jain suddenly remembered the famous saying of an absolute master:
A sword is nothing more than a tool I happen to use.
He had truly fought with an ordinary blade — and regrettably had fallen to a master who wielded a famous sword. When skill was nearly equal, weapons sometimes decided the victor.
And if the weapons are wonders like these?
Across long ages such divine arms had acquired unique natures of their own. Song Jain was already feeling a dizzying thrill, as if her heart might burst from the pressure of those auras.
"Nowhere in the world is more valuable than this place."
Was there a martial artist alive who could argue with that judgment?
"So I've decided to put it to active use."
"Use it?"
"Until now I've tried to hide everything as thoroughly as I could. But from now on I intend to use whatever can be used. If we die, none of it means anything."
As he spoke, Ja Gangcheon held out a box and a black fan.
"Poison King Man Simak's medicine bottles, and the Honmaseon."
"Ah…"
She had expected the bottles. She had not expected to be given the Soul Demon Fan.
"I heard you used a fan as a weapon in the past. Won't the Honmaseon be a great help?"
She ordinarily fought with palm techniques loaded with poison arts, but when she needed a weapon she had always preferred an iron fan.
"Surely this isn't the Honmaseon of the Matron of Lost Souls?"
Song Jain's hands trembled as she took the fan.
The Honmaseon — the Soul Demon Fan. When shaken with internal energy, it released sound waves like the screams of restless spirits. The depth of the user's energy determined how those waves could be shaped; opponents who faced it said they felt as if they had been possessed by ghosts, which was why it was also called the Soul-Stealing Iron Fan.
"You like black, don't you? I thought it would suit you."
She had always insisted on black silk robes embroidered with camellias. The Honmaseon, with its black ribs and painted sky of ink-dark clouds, matched her perfectly.
"I'll have to add a few ornaments so no one can tell it's the Honmaseon."
"Decorate it however you like, Aunt. I'm sure you'll do beautifully."
Song Jain looked at Ja Gangcheon's smile and suddenly realized how unreal the moment was. The Poison King's true inheritance and the Honmaseon on top of it. As a martial artist she had always dreamed of fateful fortune, but fortune on this scale was almost shameless. And yet it had become reality. The problem was that it still was not finished.
"Big Brother Panseok."
"Yes?"
"I made you a promise before. The time has come."
"Don't tell me…"
Understanding hit him; Panseok's lips began to shake.
"Thank you, Hyungnim!"
He bowed his head — and tears suddenly sprayed in every direction. Startled by the abrupt storm of feeling, Ja Gangcheon quickly spoke in a warm voice.
"Take it. You earned this with your own effort."
He placed a staff of mysterious violet sheen into Panseok's hands.
"This is the Mang-abong."
A weapon of a bygone age passed from Ja Gangcheon's hands into Panseok's.
At a glance the Self-Forgetting Staff looked like nothing more than a fine silver iron staff. Up close, however, it held a faint violet luster, and when swung it sent a subtle vibration up through the hands. Forged from a blend of Cold Iron, Violet Hard Iron, and Black Iron Essence, it was remarkably light for its outstanding strength. That alone would have been enough, yet nine internal moving weights increased both speed and power whenever the user put force into a swing or thrust. Because the three metals also retained internal energy, the staff helped sustain endurance as well. Practitioners often became so absorbed in its effects that they lost themselves in a trance of pure martial focus — which was how it earned the name Self-Forgetting Staff. It had been the beloved weapon of the White-Robed Wolf, Dam Jinsso, once called the greatest free-roaming hero of the martial world.
"It's a weapon that lost its master. Become its new one, Hyung."
Even that was not the end. Into the huge, gentle, cow-like eyes of Panseok — still dripping tears — Ja Gangcheon slipped a pair of ink-dark rings, one onto each hand.
"These are called Martial Steel Internal Energy Rings."
Bracelets known as internal-energy rings. Among the five such rings known to exist in the martial world, the Martial Steel pair was said to offer the greatest amplification of internal energy while also stabilizing it. They had long been believed lost, until they were found on the corpse of the Mad Sword Wanderer, Yi So, an unorthodox master from Sichuan. Even identifying them as the Martial Steel Internal Energy Rings had required Ja Gangcheon's father to test them himself.
Ja Gangcheon handed them over as casually as birthday presents, yet internal-energy rings were counted among the supreme treasures of the martial world. Anything that both amplified and stabilized internal energy was something many martial artists would gladly trade ten years of their lives to obtain.
"Hyungnim! For someone like me to receive things like—"
"Don't say 'someone like me' about yourself, Hyung. We're family."
"Waaah!"
In the end Panseok broke down and cried openly.
Being pure-hearted and kind had never meant he did not know the weight of life. He was twenty-seven this year. Until he met Ja Gangcheon he had possessed no clear direction at all; after meeting him he had formed a sharp, simple goal.
Help Hyungnim and make Deungmyeong Manor strong.
He had never spoken the resolve aloud.
I'm just the one who runs errands.
It had always been that way. Even in the Black Society he had had good brothers, yet no one ever entrusted him with anything important. It had been the same at the manor. He did odd jobs and mostly ran messages. They had, however, trained his martial arts thoroughly — and now he had been completely freed from menial labor. Opportunity had been given, and at some point they had begun treating him like true family.
Can they really trust me?
An orphan of the ends of the earth, a former Black Society man. Most people were kind to him because of his innocence and his size. The only one who had ever shown him real trust was the labor-hall chief.
I never did anything special, yet the Lord, the Chief Manager, and Auntie all trust me. Come to think of it, there's Big Brother Pilseng too. And little Socheon likes me…
One truth settled into place.
Was the wall in my own heart all along?
Everyone had treated him with sincerity; the one who kept assuming it was an act had been himself.
Looking back, the people of the manor always treated me the same way.
Panseok could no longer hold back. He bowed deeply.
"I'll protect Hyungnim and everyone at the manor for the rest of my life! I swear it!"
Ja Gangcheon answered the sincerity simply.
"Thank you. Hearing that gives me strength."
Panseok wondered whether he was allowed to pull Ja Gangcheon into a crushing hug. Unfortunately, while he was still deliberating, Ja Gangcheon's gaze had already shifted to Cheongu.
"Then only Cheongu is left."
"I already have one."
Cheongu lifted the Moonlit Sword. With both a mind method and a sword art already in hand, he had more than enough — almost too much.
"This one actually came from the Demonic Cult, but it has nothing to do with demonic energy or demonic arts. It isn't even particularly famous."
What Ja Gangcheon held out was a black leather glove. Outwardly it had no special features, and it was only for one hand, not a pair.
"It didn't even have a name, so my parents called it the Shadowless Hand."
Shadowless Hand — a hand without even a shadow.
"Try it on. The sensation will be strange, so don't panic."
Following the suggestion, Cheongu slipped the Shadowless Hand onto his right hand. The leather felt thin and smooth — and then, moment by moment, sensation began to fade.
"Huh?"
Before long he fell into the illusion that he had lost everything below the wrist.
"I can't feel anything."
"I thought the same at first. It's the opposite. It's become so sensitive that the difference feels alien. Try gripping your sword."
Cheongu drew the Moonlit Sword and closed his hand around it. The blade gripped through the Shadowless Hand felt completely different from before.
"Circulate a little internal energy. Imagine pouring it into the Moonlit Sword."
The moment he did so, the vanished sensation of his hand began to return — and then the Moonlit Sword itself felt as though it had become an extension of his own arm. Only then did he truly understand what "extremely sensitive" meant.
"Whoa…"
Even the tiniest motion and tremor at the tip of the blade registered with crystalline clarity.
"Your swordsmanship is changeable and brilliant, so that delicate sense will help you."
Ja Gangcheon's explanation was exact. Already Cheongu was seized by the urge to swing the sword with this new awareness.
"Thank you. The debt I have to repay just got larger again."
"Don't pay it all back at once. Stay my friend for life and settle it a little at a time."
"I will."
"All right! And one more thing — I'm planning to build a separate cultivation chamber."
Ja Gangcheon laid out the final plan.
"We already have quite a few things that help with internal energy — Qi-Condensing Stones, Flying Swallow Incense, and the rest. I want to gather them all in one place."
"Having a dedicated training room like that would be more efficient, true."
Until now Cheongu and Panseok had been forced to take turns in secret, away from other eyes.
"I'd be grateful if you could help design it, Aunt. I heard Poison Valley had many laboratories."
At those words Song Jain sank into a pleasant daydream.
A cultivation chamber built around the hundred greatest treasures of the martial world…
It might become the greatest sacred ground in all of Jianghu. And she would be the one to design and build it with her own hands. Even the day she first received a private laboratory in Poison Valley had not stirred her this much.
"Leave it to me."
As she spoke, Song Jain cast one more look around the interior of the vault.
Even looking at it again, it still makes no sense.
Right now, the whole moment felt like a dream.